


Life After Death

by idiotsammich (god_is_undead)



Category: Better Call Saul (TV), Breaking Bad
Genre: Breaking Bad Spoilers, I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good, I am not a lawyer, I disagree, Jesse Pinkman needs a hug, Post Breaking Bad, and a fuckload of therapy, and some people think that makes her a bitch, fallout from the series, hamlin is also badass, kim wexler is badass, skyler is not a bitch she is a sane and capable woman with an opinion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-03-22 05:33:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13757355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/god_is_undead/pseuds/idiotsammich
Summary: Post-series; Jesse is in jail, and Kim is trying to get him out in exchange for his help in finding Jimmy.Canon-compliant such as we know thus far.





	1. Prologue

Prologue—

* * *

 

Jesse made it to Andrea’s house and that was where the cops got him.

After he got out of the compound, after he’d laughed and cried himself dry and he realized that the one thing he wanted, the one thing he _needed_ more than life itself was to make sure that Brock was alright because _please_ , Brock had to be alright, _he had to be_ , because nothing else was and that kid deserved so much and he couldn't be hurt _he just couldn't_ —Jesse drove there and found out just before a wailing storm with flashing lights caught up that a different family lived there now.

They watched him from the front porch. It reminded him in one blinding flash of his own family. What did they tell Jake? Did Mom and Dad even say anything?—Had they ever known anything?

As the cops threw him down, cuffed him, and read his Miranda Rights over his head, Jesse wasn't really listening. He couldn't take his eyes off the face of the little boy, who gazed at him in sleepy astonishment, clutched between his parents. _Why is he still out here?—They shouldn’t be exposing him to_ this. He had red hair— _like Spooge's kid_. Whatever happened to him? Jesse hadn't thought about him in so long, and with that the collective emotional crash hit him like an oncoming train: he pulled in a breath and _screamed_ , a high, trembling, animal wail full of helpless anguish and overwhelming grief.

Jesse came alive again, shouting curses and lashing out at whatever he could reach.

It took four guys to eventually wrangle him into the back of a squad car. He was sobbing by the time they pulled away from the curb, and insensible to the flash photography and voices around him. It spun like a kaleidoscope.

Because it didn’t matter that the cops had caught him. It wouldn’t have mattered if they hadn’t caught him. In reality it didn’t matter whether he was in Alaska or in prison anywhere. It didn’t matter where he was, physically, because the only kind of freedom he had left at all, anywhere, was in his head.

_But I'm free_. He could sense the irony, even if he ignored it, because this was the cops, not Todd and his fucking uncle Jack. Jesse felt the cuffs around his wrists as he sobbed—

It was all a lie, everything, but for a moment _it felt real_.


	2. Chapter 2

“Guy stays pretty quiet most of the time. I heard when they picked him up he went nuts. Scared the shit out of the whole neighborhood.” The cop standing next to Kim shifted on his feet.

Kim gazed through the one-way window at one Jesse Pinkman back from the dead, wearing an orange jumpsuit with his shoulders hunched up around his ears and cuffs around his wrists connecting to his ankles. Pinkman gazed with a leaden, vacant intensity at the far wall inside the interview room, hooded blue eyes wide in sunken rings of darkness.

“You know, they found evidence out there at that Nazi compound that he’d been chained up like a slave and kept in a pit, cranking out the blue stuff?” the cop next to her said, shaking his head in awed disgust. “Fucking shit’s crazy. This shit definitely went on the list of fucked up cases I've seen, and I've been on the force for twenty years.”

“Nazis?” Kim asked, turning to the cop in surprise. “No one’s said anything about Nazis.” The news hedged towards sticking to the somewhat less sensational _white supremacist_ and _far-right gang_ as a descriptor, but it didn’t really matter, did it; aside from a few middling, semantic details, Nazi was synonymous with white supremacist—or at least, all Nazis were white supremacists, but not all white supremacists were Nazis. Apparently, there were different kinds of assholes?  _They’re all pieces of shit_.

“Apparently that compound was owned by some Nazi Glee Club,” the cop remarked. “Nazis. In America. In the 21st century. Who’d have thought?"

There was a short silence. Pinkman hadn’t blinked even once. It gave Kim the creeps, like even if he were breathing and moving there wasn’t a person inside Pinkman's head at all. Kim was eerily reminded of an uncle who had come back from Vietnam a changed man.

All she could hear, for a moment, was the buzz of the fluorescent light over their heads. 

“Well, are you sure you want to do this?” the cop asked, tilting his head at Pinkman. “The state has a public defender all lined up. This case isn’t going do your career any good, Miss Wexler.”

Of course she was sure.

How the hell else was she going to find Jimmy, if not by talking to the last person who might have some idea of what happened to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tend to write much longer chapters than this, but I feel like this is all that needed to be said in this one.

**Author's Note:**

> First BB/BCS fanfiction. Hopefully I won't fuck it up too badly.
> 
> I miss Mike. Mike is my favorite.


End file.
